


By The Throat

by ShudderShock



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Breathplay, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Non-Canon Relationship, One Shot, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 08:24:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12295224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShudderShock/pseuds/ShudderShock
Summary: Shepard was so fixated on Adrien Victus that she could barely breathe.





	By The Throat

**Author's Note:**

> Title: By The Throat
> 
> Author: Shudder Shock (http://afterlife-club.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Pairing: Adrien Victus/Female Shepard
> 
> Summary: Shepard was so fixated on Adrien Victus that she could barely breath.
> 
> Rating: Mature.
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters © BioWare. 
> 
> +++
> 
> A/N: 
> 
> A. Shepard’s personal fantasy is just so meta. 
> 
> B. Thanks RobinYourgrave for beta reading, _and_ providing the prompt: teeth, talons and breathplay! 
> 
> +++

Adrien Victus had eyes like fire. 

Shepard noticed them as soon as the newly appointed Primarch swaggered out from his bunker on Menae, even before she noticed his pronounced mandibles, regal fringe, or how his muzzle was a darker shade of gray than the rest of his facial plates. She was ardently aware of his amber eyes, even after she took note of the composed yet cavalier way he moved, and conducted himself around the War Room. 

Shepard also noticed that Adrien never backed down from her gaze when he caught her staring at him— because he was watching her too. Sometimes, it felt like he was absolutely hunting her, and that always sent a pleasant shiver right down her spine. Shepard liked the way the Primarch looked at her, like he wanted to eat her. It was different then what Shepard was accustomed to— the hopeless gaze of unrequited love by her _subordinates_. Although, she was no expert at deciphering turian facial expression, she was positive that the gaze the Primarch bestowed upon her was lustful. 

Sooner or later, they were going to corner each other. And, she was certain the outcome would be _glorious_. While Shepard was a staunch professional, she had no qualms about letting this turian—who was old enough to be her father—just take her, because Shepard liked power. And, Adrien Victus just exuded the stuff. 

It was fair to say that Shepard was slightly enamored with her diplomatic guest. 

But she was in no mood to be gawked at tonight. 

Not by him, or anyone else. 

Shepard was not built for the pomp and circumstance of government. Hosting a war summit on the Normandy was adding a whole new layer of stress for her to cope with, and given the fact that Reapers were _literally_ falling out of the sky on Earth— well, that was saying something. Her temper always rose from a low shimmer to roaring boil whenever she was forced to oversee the negotiations between Adrien, Wrex, and the salarian Dalatrass Linron. Their bickering tonight was no different than that of any other, and her tolerance for bureaucratic bullshit was at an all-time low. The only consolation was that Adrien seemed to be getting just as pissed off as she was; there was a hard tension in his broad shoulders, and he’d taken to pacing around the conference table like a caged animal. 

At the meeting’s conclusion, Shepard stormed out of the War Room. She rushed through her night rounds and then entered her cabin to immediately change from her BDUs, into pair of lightweight athletic leggings and sports bra. Grabbing her training gloves, Shepard made for the gym. It was small— most of the crew preferred the spacious, open hanger for their workouts. But, she liked the privacy of the modest gymnasium. It was large enough to host a grappling match, housed a decent set of weights, and a durable punching bag that hung from the ceiling. Shepard pulled on her mitts, eyeballing the bag before delivering a series of heavy blows to it. 

Every blow felt satisfying under her fists, and Shepard soon fell into the rhythm of practiced impact. 

The hiss of the automated doors alerted Shepard to the presence of an interloper. She groaned internally; she was in no mood for company. She peeked out from behind the punching bag, and wasn’t surprised to see that Adrien was the one trespassing upon her private time. When she’d hurried out of the War Room earlier, Shepard didn’t see as much as she _felt_ him watch her leave.

He was still dressed a fine livid suit, but there was a new detail about the Primarch’s appearance that made Shepard’s breath catch in her throat. 

Adrien didn’t have any gloves on.

Even after all knowing Garrus for all these years, Shepard realized that she’d never seen a turian with their hands exposed. A budding sort of fascination blossomed, as Shepard tried not to gawk at the shiny curve of black talons— sharp, but groomed— and the overall size of his palm and phalanges. The dorsal side of his hands weren’t smooth like her own, but symmetrically lined with steely-gray scales. 

“Commander,” he said, dipping his head in polite greeting. Adrien always said her rank like a salacious pet name—like it was just a layer to strip off, and lay her bare. 

Shepard tore her eyes away from the turian, choosing to focus on the freestanding heavy bag that she’d been pummeling. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Primarch?” Shepard greeted in return, punctuating her question is another strike to her swinging target. 

“It’s so late,” Adrien mused, peeling off the top layer of his attire. “Shouldn't you be resting?”

Shepard glanced up at him, curious. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” she answered, adjusting the hand wraps. Shepard started striking the punching bag again, resuming the routine that Adrien interrupted with his distracting presence. 

“Indeed,” Adrien confirmed coolly. “We both will.”

Shepard didn’t allow herself to analyze the mournful statement. She didn’t need Adrien to emphasize her own mortality, and Shepard certainly didn’t want on dwell on his. No, what she really wanted was for the Primarch to either _leave_ the gym, or _leave_ her alone. Shepard didn’t want to look at the monochromatic plating of his face, or the elegant upsweep of his colony markings. Nor, did she want to hear his enticingly rough voice. Shepard simply wanted to beat the shit out of the punching bag until she was so thoroughly drained that she could hit the rack for a few hours of turbulent slumber. 

In a few wide strides, Adrien was standing beside her. “Are you tired of working through your frustrations alone?" he asked.

Shepard looked up at him. “You wanna have a go?” she retorted, irritated by both his words and suggestive tone. Adrien was a third of the reason for her so-called _frustrations_. He just wouldn’t play nice with his krogan and salarian counterparts. 

“Oh, I _would_ ,” Adrien insisted, purring through the duel harmonics of his throat. 

Shepard sneered, “I’d hate to break you, old man.” 

His mandibles broadened into a grin. “What if I broke you, instead?” he teased, and Shepard couldn’t ignore the innuendo in his sub-vocals. She suddenly felt flush, and a warm sensation was starting to radiate from her core. She stepped away from the bag, and moved to the center of the room. “Don’t you cheat, and try to use those on me,” Shepard warned referring to his polished talons. She brought her fists up to a basic guard, tucked her chin and kept her vision focused solely on Adrien. 

“Wouldn’t you like me to?” Adrien asked, already circling her. He preferred a low hand guard, and Shepard was already scanning for a way to breakthrough his defense. 

Adrien rushed her, faster than she ever expected. Shepard barely had time to roll away. From the corner of her eye, she saw his arm began a downward trajectory. Shepard dodged this time, and felt her hair ruffle from the force behind it. 

He charged her again, and Shepard sidestepped, whirling to face Adrien. He blocked the blow from her fist, and retaliated with a jab that barely grazed Shepard’s mid-section. 

Avoidance was simple, but she didn’t want to do it forever. She needed to go on the offensive, and get Adrien to the ground. 

Her opportunity came when Adrien lashed out again, and Shepard dropped low, landing a solid hit to his chest. He staggered, and it was just the opening she needed.

Shepard tackled him, using the propulsion to knock him to the mat. Adrien reflexively twisted his head to avoid the impact to his fringe.

He felt so good under her body— his tapered waist trapped between her knees was a solid affirmation to the ache between her legs. Shepard reared back, intending to land a blow, the momentum dragging her pelvis back against his own. Infuriatingly, she couldn’t even feel the outline of his cock through the thin material of her athletic leggings. It was that split-second pause that Adrien took advantage of.

His hand suddenly engulfed her throat, and Shepard knew she’d just made a critical miscalculation. She didn’t even see the movement of his arm, but she felt the scrape of three thick claws on the nape of her neck. Shepard was hyperaware of how deafeningly loud her heart raced in her ears, and how suddenly _wet_ her panties felt. Already, sprawled upon his body, she inadvertently widened her thighs to alleviate the growing ache between her thighs, and the swell of her clit. 

Shepard was never one to associate violence with arousal; getting into brawls had never gotten her off. So, why the restless sensation of sexual frustration was making her body now _throb_ was beyond anything she’d experienced in the past— she had no frame of reference, not for this. 

Adrien Victus had just insured victory, one way or another. 

Shepard swore she felt Adrien buck up between her legs, but it was so subtle that the turian could probably rebuff the accusation. 

“Why did you leave yourself so open to attack, Commander?” Adrien chided, tightening his grip on her throat. He wasn’t choking her; just asserting control. His voice was just barely over a whisper, and Shepard swore there was a seductive edge to his tones.

She would deny that her lapse of judgment was due to anything other than exhaustion, not the subconscious desire to be dominated by this handsome, stately, and dangerous turian.

“I killed so many of your kind during the Relay 314 Incident,” Adrien told her. 

He wasn’t gloating, or threatening, merely stating a fact— _reminding_ her that enemies were everywhere. 

Adrien’s version of a cautionary tale, even. 

Shepard reached up, trying to loosen his restraint on her, because her pride dictated that she should try to resist his aggression. But, his arm was unmoving. It wasn’t a disappointing revelation. Shepard could feel hard, tense muscle through the soft material of his clothing, just as surely as she could feel her nipples pebble against the material of her sports bra. “Are you about to tell me how badly you regret killing all of them?” she mocked, through constricted breath. 

“No.” Adrien answered coldly, and his mandibles spread into what had to be a smirk. She could see all his impossibly sharp teeth; perfect for tearing, and biting. Shepard had never seen a turian so prominently display them, and knew that Adrien was a different sort than what she was used to dealing with— older, meaner and wonderfully confident. “War is hell. And, I would have never gotten to where I am if I had regrets.” Her eyes darted up from his pointed teeth and blue tongue, to his knowing amber eyes.

Adrien seemed to grin just a bit wider—he’d caught her staring. 

He always did. 

“Distracted, Commander?” he asked, scanning her body with a ravenous look. Momentarily, he focused solely on the junction of her thighs, and Shepard could feel how utterly slick she was—a steady trickle that dripped down from her pussy to ass cheeks—under Adrien’s appraisal.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shepard lied, tipping her head back to breathe. Adrien was finally— regrettably—relaxing his grasp. The disappointment at the loss of pressure never came. Adrien only shifted his hold to firmly grip her chin between his thumb and index finger. The pad of his thumb, and its razor-like talon traced the tender skin of Shepard’s full bottom lip. Shepard parted them, the barest whisper of a kiss to the digit. 

She wanted him, and Adrien knew it.

And, Shepard could feel the burning attraction he held for her too. 

There was a wanton freedom in that knowledge—the promise of lustful fulfilment, and passionate release. 

Adrien chuckled, a rough, low and approving sound. “Those are my favorite types of lies,” he muttered, before pushing his thumb into Shepard’s mouth. She offered unrestricted access— it felt so big on the supple surface of her tongue. Shepard sucked the digit in, until she felt the graze of talon hit the back of her throat, before releasing and repeating the action. When Shepard let her teeth run across the appendage, Adrien gave an appreciative _trill_ before pulling out of the confines of her mouth. 

He reached up and under, grabbing her ass hard with a possessive snarl. 

Shepard’s brain dissolved into a primal, frantic need for sex.

What little clothing she wore felt too tight. Shepard wanted to be naked, to put herself on display for this alien predator beneath her, and let his perilous, keen talons run all over her body. She didn’t even remember toeing off her shoes, slipping off the sports bra and leggings, or tossing her hand wraps. The only thing Shepard was only acutely aware of the way Adrien was manipulating her body to turn her, forcing her to sit up and then spreading her legs to straddle his face. 

_Oh, my god._

She hadn’t expected this sort of intimacy. 

Whenever she’d imagined an encounter with Adrien —something she’d done often, as of late— it was always a quick fuck in the War Room. In her fantasies, Adrien would yank her fatigues down, push her panties aside and bend her over the table. He’d shove his cock into her, using her until he came, and that was usually when Shepard would tremble against her sheets, and wonder why she developed such a fixation on the turian leader.

Adrien’s thick tongue bathing her pussy in a slow, sweeping upward motion only reiterated how much _better_ reality was compared to fantasy. 

She could feel the flutter of his mandibles when his tongue went particularly deep inside her cunt, and the pin-prick of Adrien’s teeth on the back of the soft flesh of her thighs created a heady juxtaposition to the thick, pliable muscle inside her body. There was an enticing rumbling coming from his larynx, and she could feel the strum of it through his mouth, vibrations adding an additional layer of sensation. When she started to enthusiastically grind against his face, one massive hand gripped the front of her thigh, while the other cupped her breasts. Adrien easily palmed them both— caressing, squeezing, and especially teasing her nipples. The danger on the tips of his fingers was always just the barest hint away from digging deeper into her skin. 

Adrien forced her down, until she was entirely level with his face— spread wide open— restraining her movements with unyielding authority. Shepard could only inch forward, and brace herself on the expanse of his broad chest, shamelessly submitting to the lapping undulation of his tongue. Adrien let Shepard ride his face until her breath hitched, her body shuddered, and she came hard around his tongue. Body going limp, and Shepard slumped forward onto him, until her face came close to the area where she assumed a considerable bulge would be. 

“Good girl,” he praised, a heated whisper on her slick pussy. 

Shepard never in her life had been referred to as a _good girl_. But, it was so wonderfully obscene rolling between the gravelly dual-tones of Adrien’ voice, that Shepard would’ve been delighted to hear it as often as possible. She glanced back over her shoulder, and was elated to see the evidence of her release smeared in glossy iridescence across Adrien’s strong jaw, and lengthy maxilla. She wanted to turn, lick, and savor herself off his tip of his mandible, but Adrien was already obliging— blue tongue catching the flat edge of his mouth. Instead, Shepard started to work on the fastenings of his pants— a task more difficult than necessary given the reversed angle. Still, Shepard was determined; she wanted to feel his cock in her hands, her mouth too—the fresh memory of his thumb pushing in, and out of her lips—only further drove her eagerness. 

Adrien lifted his angular hips, letting Shepard push his pants down to expose his pelvic sheath. She gave a confused little huff upon baring him. 

Shepard’s bewilderment was answered with a pleased chuckle that tickled the wet, overly sensitive skin still poised in front of his face. “We’re more concealed than human males.” Adrien informed her, before he leaned forward just enough to cover her petite hand with his ample one. “Like this,” he encouraged, navigating her over his sheath, until she felt the hot, oily tip of his shaft press into her palm. Adrien withdrew his guidance, in favor of rubbing his rough thumb in soft, slow circles at the base of her neck. Shepard drew the rest of his dark-blue erection out, and tried to wrap her fingers around it—she failed; Adrien was just too big. 

Adrien’s cock was a heavy curve in her grasp. It had a tapered tip, with ridging that trailed down the underside, all the way to his wide, thick base. It was both familiar enough in shape to not discourage her ministrations, yet still foreign enough to further heighten her arousal at how forbidden it seemed to let this turian diplomat fuck her. Without hesitation, Shepard ran her tongue over his head, tasting the natural saltiness of the lubricant that thinly coated his entire length. 

Adrien’s sub-vocals were rumbling so loudly in anticipation that Shepard could both hear, and feel the resonance. His breathing was becoming rough and ragged when he gripped the back of her head, tangling long fingers into her hair. When Adrien’s talons dug into her scalp, a shiver ran all from the top of her head, to the base of her spine. He was pushed up onto his elbow, while moving his hips forward, improving the angle enough for Shepard hover her lips directly over his cock. 

She took him between her lips and started to bob, while using her hand to message any part of him she wouldn’t fit into her mouth.

“Ah, _Commander_ ,” Adrien purred. 

Shepard felt her toes curl against the padded floor, a new wave of arousal spilling from her. Adrien used the back of his knuckle to lazily spread her wetness to her clit, slowing caressing the bundle of nerves.

She was going to come again, and made the tactical decision to get him in before that happened. Regrettably, that meant moving away from his luscious attentions. Shepard surged forward, felt the tip of his cock against her sensitive vulva and rose to her knees. She arched her back, intending to just glide down, but was grabbed by the waist right before she could complete the anxious move. Adrien’s strong hands circled her torso— claws digging into the front of her firm abdomen and back. 

“Turn around,” he ordered, sub-vocals vibrating dangerously low. “I want to see you _open_ for me.”

There was no reason to be stubborn about complying with his request. Shepard twisted her body, straddling him in a similar fashion from their earlier spar— only this time she was finally able to trap his large, blue member between her bare thighs, and grind her aching, soaking valley across along the ridges of his length. 

It was sweet, temporary relief.

Adrien watched her move—fiery eyes cast upon her face, only to fixate on the motion of her round hips. His mandibles flare out widely, the same smirk from earlier. 

Lurching back, she used his bent knees as leverage, hovering over the tip of his shaft. Adrien slid the head through the soft plaits of her pussy. When the ridges ran decently slow over her clit, Shepard let her eyes flutter shut, and a content smile tugged the corner of her lips. She was so warm, wet, and _ready_ for him.

She felt his hands wrap around her waist again, lowering her down, past her threshold. The pleasant burn of being so stretched— _filled_ —completely by him, made her head spin. Shepard could just feel so much of him, so deep inside. Tentatively, she bounced. Every ridge grazed her tight walls, and she clenched around him, wanting to feel more. She repeated the motion, and Adrien issued a growl when she took him to the hilt again. 

It was a sound that should have alerted Shepard, but she was never one to heed such warnings. 

Adrien suddenly pulled out, and Shepard instantly felt empty without him. She managed to blurt out a disgruntled little, “What…!” Before he pulled her down, positioning them both onto their sides. Adrien pressed the front of his body against her smooth back and lifted her knee. Shepard was too far gone into the throes of gratifying sexual arousal to brace herself. Adrien reentered so forcefully from behind, that her tits bounced, and her head jolted against his keel. His unoccupied hand snaked up to surround her neck once more. Shepard took deep, open-mouthed breathes against the choke— loving the way Adrien handled, and controlled her body. She never once blacked out; Adrien relaxed his grip at just the right moments to prevent even temporary unconsciousness.

His strokes were steady, and deliberate. 

At any moment, Shepard entirely expected him to just put her on her knees, and relentlessly plow her stupid, but it never happened. Adrien’s body remained pressed to her back— one hot hand under her hoisted knee, while the other wrapped firmly—but carefully—around her throat. Her own hand found purchase beneath of his fringe, which she periodically skimmed over in fascination. She’d never felt anything like the rugged texture of his spines before. Shepard rested her free hand over his; the one that cradled her neck. She liked feeling his talons flux beneath her fingertips.

It was the perfect angle to accommodate the deep penetration of his cock, while plunging his tongue into her mouth, matching the carnal rhythm of his thrusting. It proved to be too much of a dual sensation for her. Shepard’s vision suddenly vignetted— her walls clenched around his thick erection, and she threw her head back gasping. Adrien hummed approvingly into her ear, before snapping his hips _once_ , _twice_ before spilling into her. 

When he withdrew, she felt his hot come run down her thigh. 

It wasn’t unwelcome. 

Adrien released her leg, and jaw. 

Shepard could feel the hot imprint of his grip upon her. 

She had just not only good sex, but _great_ sex, with a former turian general, now the newly appointed Primarch of Palaven. Adrien was watching her like he always did since boarding the Normandy, laying in a panting, boneless heap on the floor. For the first time, she noticed that his gaze not only seemed lustful but... tender. 

And, maybe it was just the effects of her post-sex afterglow, but Shepard desperately wanted to tell him how much she enjoyed being with him. 

How much she appreciated his company, insight and how she _would_ find a way to convince Wrex to lend krogan aid to Palaven. 

Shepard also wanted to tell him that she _knew_ how hard it was to be forced into a position that you had zero control over, and never— _ever_ —would. 

That she understood the burden of responsibility, just as well as he did.

But the only thing that Shepard intelligently blurted out was, “God, Adrien. You’re fucking _huge_.” 

“You flatter me, Commander,” he said.

Shepard could already feel the unfurling of desire in her core once again, despite how utterly well-fucked she was. “I hope you find the rest of your time of my ship… _agreeable_ ,” she teased, hinting and hoping that this encounter wouldn’t be the last. 

Adrien ran a sharp claw over the curve of her shoulder, all the way down to her hip. 

It was an unspoken promise. 

They would do this again. 

“I’ll be happy to take advantage of all that your hospitality offers,” he said, before his tongue traced the shell of her ear. 

End


End file.
